When Kenny, aged 19, was the man of the match in the Premiership's first Merseyside derby, his team-mate Peter Beardsley excitably christened him the "Goodison Gazza". If only he knew. The comparison was not gratuitous: Kenny was a midfielder blessed with sublime skill, especially in his passing, and perhaps more importantly a striking fearlessness (when Vinny Jones greeted him with a trademark early reducer, Kenny took the medicine uncomplainingly and then gave Jones a taste of it a few minutes later). But sadly the comparison to Gazza was equally relevant off the pitch: Kenny self-destructed, only much sooner. He chose not to choose life; he chose something else.

Unable to handle his newfound celebrity, he began to cross the white line on and off the pitch. "Some mornings I got home at four or five, had a couple of lines of cocaine, slept for an hour and then went to training," he said. "Sometimes I could hardly see the ball. I was a joke." He was sacked first by Everton and then by Oldham; he played his last league game at 22. But even though he only played 17 times for Everton, he still makes some fans' all-time XI.

He might have been football's answer to Oasis: a rock 'n' roll star who burned dramatically if briefly, and who has been hanging on to the memories at the expense of dignity ever since. Fowler arrived from nowhere in the mid-90s, an irresistible fusion of streetwise swagger and instinctive talent, and a shameless homage to a sixties great (the Beatles/Jimmy Greaves, if we are to continue this already laboured comparison). He scored over 30 goals in each of the three seasons from 1994-97, but would never again reach 20. In 1995-96, in particular, he was truly sensational, terrorising the champions Manchester United (four goals in two league games, including this delicious fusion of roughhouse and arthouse) and scoring a goal of staggering quality against Aston Villa.

Many point to the obviously debilitating effects of a cruciate-ligament knee injury in 1997-98, but other factors also conspired: the emergence of Michael Owen did not help, and he suffered under the joyless regime of Gerard Houllier. Perhaps most significant is that, like Oasis, his success was inextricably linked to a combination of youth and hunger that was in intrinsically finite supply. Arguably Fowler reached the top of the mountain when he scored twice in the famous 4-3 win over Newcastle in April 1996; it was five days before his 21th birthday.

In footballing terms, Lamptey was the son of God. Pele anointed him in 1991, saying that Lamptey was "my natural successor" after his bewitching attacking brilliance had helped Ghana win the Under-17 World Cup. He was already playing for Anderlecht, enjoying a sensational debut season at 16, but then it started to go wrong. Unable to read, write or express himself in English, he was eaten alive in the big, bad world of unscrupulous agents. He should have been nursed like a crown jewel; instead he was tossed around like a piece of meat: overall he played in 10 countries and four continents.

His naked talent won out for a while, most notably in a splendid season at PSV Eindhoven at the age of 19, but the ill-fortune that had begun when he was abused by his parents as a child was slowly catching up with him: most tragically, two of his children died at a young age. At least this story has something resembling a happy ending: three years ago he founded the Glow-Lamp junior school, which started with one pupil and now has nearly 400.

Of all the myriad roadblocks to a promising career, a foreigner rule might just be the most perverse. In 1995, Keith Gillespie was the heir apparent on Manchester United's right wing, well ahead of a limited trier called David Beckham, and had already scored one stunning goal in a top-of-the-table clash against Newcastle. That pricked Kevin Keegan's interest, and he asked for Gillespie in part-exchange when Alex Ferguson tried to buy Andy Cole. Ferguson only agreed because of the foreigner rule, and his desperate need for England-qualified players.

The rule was scrapped a year later, but for Gillespie it was too late: away from the strict tutelage of Ferguson, he was unable to control his vices, particularly gambling. Despite sporadic glimpses of that scintillating talent (most notably when he terrorised Barcelona's Sergi in a glorious Champions League victory in 1997), he was on an inexorably downward trajectory. The same thing, of course, might have happened had he stayed at United. Or he might now be married to a Spice Girl.

5) James Will (Arsenal, Dunfermline)

The thought of a Scottish goalkeeper being the best footballer in the world might seem like the definitive contradiction. But at the 1989 Under-17 World Cup, Will was peerless among his age group: he won the Golden Ball for his performances guarding the Scottish net after they were beaten in the final by Saudi Arabia. It's a significant award - subsequent winners include Nii Lamptey, Cesc Fábregas and Anderson - and, with Will already on Arsenal's books, the future seemed mapped out. But Will could not find a way: after five seasons without a first-team game he went to Dunfermline, playing his only professional games before quitting a year later.

"I got a bit disillusioned with football," he said. He now plays for his village side, Turriff United, but his priority is not keeping his sheets clean so much as keeping the streets clean: he works as a policeman, and uses his long arm to enforce the law rather than repel opposing attackers.

6) Wayne Harrison (Oldham, Liverpool)

Harrison might be the only sportsman to retire having had more operations (23) than years (22). He was the most expensive teenager in the world, at £250,000, when Liverpool signed him from Oldham in 1985. Aged 17, he had only made five first-team appearances, but had ransacked Liverpool in an FA Youth Cup tie at Anfield. Oldham won 4-0 and the Liverpool manager Joe Fagan was given the word. "You hear reports about a special player perhaps once in 20 years," he said. "That's why we bought him."

The signing even made the nine o'clock news, but after that the only bulletins were of the medical variety. Harrison's grotesque misfortune began when he fell through a greenhouse, almost dying due to the loss of blood, and over the next few years he injured almost every part of his body. Finally, in May 1990, he shattered cruciate ligaments in his knee and that was that: he retired without playing a first-team game for Liverpool. His body was so damaged that, when he was granted a testimonial in 1992, he could not even hobble on for a cameo appearance.